Picture yourself sitting in a baby bed and your one toy, which you have played with, has been ripped out of your hands. My baby toy is Eddie Floyd. The story begins with a heroic tale, a story, which only one man, can tell. Who is that man you ask? Eddie Floyd Its got to be that way, I quote the flyodmister. I was drawn to the vibrant yellow album sleeve a man standing there so heroic and sly. He sang to me Oh baby feel my baby. Sometimes I think the Jesus we say is Jesus is Eddie Floyd. I purchase the album experience, and what an experience it is, my Jesus. Ever been to noodle box its pretty molly ringwald and i'm talking Molly Ringwald breakfast club days. man I would hit that. Some people say that she is past her date but I don’t think so. Red hair damn and the name its like a candy bar that you love. Anyways back to the point. Eddie My Jesus. After a night in Vancouver I travel to a far land I guess some might say its mystic, but I didn’t see any Minox’es anywhere. Have you ever seen a Bantha. Cause I have there was one wailing around like Joes dangler. This reminds Moe “the excavator” Branford of a poem: brains are for snacks/ pinch the tail and suck the head/ slurp that drippy drink/ remember to mail your Nonna a letter asking for cash/ caves are for bats and man-bats are for snacks. Moe has a bad memory so don’t hold him to it. It’s all circular logic anyways. So pick up your slacks and dance naked in front of a bluescreen – because you haven’t been made love to until you let Eddie Floyd suck on your head.